


Believer

by PlethoraOfCreatures



Category: Original Work
Genre: Altered Mental States, Art, Awesome, Drawing, Ficlet, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Music, No Dialogue, Short One Shot, There's A Tag For That, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlethoraOfCreatures/pseuds/PlethoraOfCreatures
Summary: I looked at the notebook in front of me.The music got louder.I gripped my pencil tighter and began to draw.





	Believer

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3 in the morning. I don't know what I'm doing right now. Just woke up and this popped into my head.  
> Edit: It's now a reasonable time to type out a little one-shot.

It was innocent, just laying there.

A small brown notebook.

So why was my hand shaking as I reached out to touch the cover?

The summer breeze blew through the open window, curling through the sunlight like ivy growing around a fencepost. It breathed life into the thin and airy white curtains, causing the sun on the notebook to become dappled and move. 

A small hum started in the back of my mind, faint notes playing in the corners of my skull. I winced.

It was still there, then.

Looking out of the window, I let my gaze move over the beach that greeted the house. The ocean, resolutely pounding away at the shore, as it would always do. Not because it wanted to destroy the beach, wash it all away, no. It did that because that was what it was. 

I let the sound of the waves drown out the hum, like static on a radio. 

Layers and layers of light and dark was the ocean. An unfathomable titan, that brightly colored fish darted through, and massive whales glided in. It guarded its secrets as jealously as a dragon with its hoard. For all we know, I mused to myself, it might still be holding ancients sea monsters so fierce that the gods, that maybe existed so long ago, feared themselves. 

Not that the shore held its own secrets.  

What buried treasure did the sands have locked in its grasp? What did the shore, both made of sharp stones and soft sand, see and keep secret for centuries? How long did it fight against the sea with those huge black boulders, until they both got along? When did the white sand appear, marking the end of those two ancient forces’ fight?

I looked back at the notebook. I was stalling.

Steeling myself, I fixed my grip on my pencil and flipped the cover open. The empty pages yawned before me, a seemingly endless expanse of white that impossibly filled my entire vision.

It was pure, clean, unbroken. And so very, very wrong. It was not supposed to be like that, I knew. Those pristine pages were meant to be covered with streaks of graphite, muddy and clear, precise and wild. It was supposed to be a creation. Life. Not this sick emptiness.

All while this was running through my head, these thoughts that were not mine, music roared in my head. Those faint notes were now a melody, one that demanded you listen, to move, to act. There were no words. There didn't need to be any.

It would just make it worse when the screaming was already so loud.

My pencil moved over the paper, leaving the groundwork for the rest of the page. It traced canyon walls, dragon’s fire, and the graceful sweep of tree branches. A castle made of graphite was built, and a lead forest grew. A queen was crowned, a dragon was slain, and another dragon was saved. I carved out a world on that notebook, a world of grays and blacks and white.

My pencil came to the point where it had first touched the paper, and it stopped there.

I snapped out of the fog that had taken me and just sat in my chair, breath stuttering.

This was the third time this had happened, the first being the very unfortunate instance where I had to write the answer to a math problem on a whiteboard.

The second was in my Art class, and it turned out a bit better, but it was still difficult to explain why there was an ‘artistic masterpiece’ in my free-draw notebook, and not on my final project.

I had avoided writing at all after that. It was a week from the end of the school year, so it wasn’t too hard. 

But now there was this.

The other two times, I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t even remember drawing on the whiteboard or in my free-draw notebook.  This time, I was aware of what I was doing. Maybe I could control it.

I thought back to the music that had engulfed my mind. What was it? Did it play a part in this?

The music was unique, nothing I had ever heard before, but the world was full of music. There had to be something like it out there.

Struck by a sudden idea, I dug out my old music player and turned it on, going through song after song, trying to find a match for the strange music in my mind.

Some songs come close, but there was one that stood out.

It brought the same feeling of ‘move do something’, and I found myself turning back to the notebook, mind still bursting with images of drawings.

As I settled my headphones over my ears, I smiled. The notes in the back of my skull became that same soaring melody, and the two sets interwove with one another, rising and falling like the tides, in perfect timing with my pencil as it danced across the page, sketching out yet another fantastical world of graphite.


End file.
